


Dips in the Pool

by orphan_account



Category: Metallica
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Humor, M/M, Pool Sex, Silly Sex, Somewhat Pool Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:49:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26479750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: How James and Lars used to cool down during a hot day. First person POV. Set in modern era (around 2009), flashes back to the early 80s.
Relationships: James Hetfield/Lars Ulrich
Kudos: 12





	Dips in the Pool

The more I grow older, the more the present starkly reminds me of the past. No, we're not poor, we're not unknown, and we're sure as hell not teenagers. But there have been moments that spark out of nowhere that remind me that neither of us have changed much. We're wiser, more mature, sure; but our teen years love to rear their beautiful ugly heads now and then.  
  
I swipe at my forehead, card my fingers through my sweaty hair. Fuck it's hot today, high 90s. It doesn't look like the temperature is going to let up once the sun goes down. I'm hoping we get a cool breeze tonight, that way I can open the windows and air out the house.  
  
I'm dying from this heat, but it's not like I can strip down to my briefs while there's people all over the damn place. Workers outside, workers downstairs. Of all days for the air conditioning to break, right? Seems someone was out for us today, because the pool is also unusable.  
  
I peek my head outside the window to check on the guys working on our pool. Ick, the shit in there is not a pretty sight. Who knew pools could get clogged like toilets? Go figure.  
  
Lars, of course, is too proud to get a fan. Oh I tried the best I could. I rationed, I begged, I pleaded, but the Danish prick was holding steadfast on his decision.  
  
'This isn't the old days,' he snapped at me with a roll of his eyes and a stomp-huff of his foot. 'We're not about to debase ourselves by getting a damn fan! We're rich dammit! We can hire people to fix our problems! What's the point of all this money if we can't use it for emergencies?!'  
  
Now after years of being together, I should know to just nod my head and let him rant his ass off. I haven't learned, obviously, because now I'm the one who is downstairs waiting for the tea to finish cooling in the freezer alongside our pints of Ben and Jerry's – I'm all about the Cherry Garcia while Lars is a Cookie Dough lover.  
  
I'm an idiot, really. I should've just said, 'Okay sure whatever Lars,' and walked away. Nope, not me. I said something along the lines of, 'A fan will keep away your bitching.' Something like that. I still don't know how he does it, but here I am in jeans and a t-shirt, dying of heat, while Lars is upstairs locked in the bathroom.  
  
From upstairs I can hear the faint sounds of jazz music. Aww hell, Lars must be really pissy if he's listening to jazz music. He only listens to jazz music when he's really fucking pissy. Heh, when I think about it, the last time on a hot day he played jazz music was that one time back in the day.  
  
Los Angeles was having such a bad, bad heat wave. Lars wouldn't shut up... heh, like today really. He swore everywhere, kicking up one hell of a storm, while jazz music played on the radio in the background. I tried to calm him down, but nope, Lars Ulrich had a point to make, and he was going to make it. All I could do was watch him work up more a sweat as he got even more red-faced.  
  
_Some sort of jazz tune plays in the background, all soothing mellowness and swaying rhythms that are absolutely out of place and out of time with the way Lars frantically paces around the room. He's wearing the shortest trunks imaginable that could pass for briefs if the right eye wasn't looking correctly, kicking things here and there as he rants on top of his lungs.  
  
"You listen up Hetfield!" he shouts, pointing right at me, eyes locked straight-on as he keeps pacing. "When we get big, I'm gonna have a huge fucking house with a lot of windows and the BEST damn air conditioning in the entire state of California!" His hand wave in the air, gesticulating and emphasizing as his voice raises. "I'm going to have a huge, gigantic Olympic sized pool– no! No, bigger than that! I'm going to have a pool the size of the state itself! It'll be a mini Pacific! And no one will be invited, ha!! That'll show them, that'll show all of them!"  
  
I shake my head, my lips curled into a resigned, amused smile. "Show them what?" I ask, chuckling softly. I'm wearing trunks as well, not as short as his. I have some sort of decency. "That you're narcissistic, self-indulgent and a showboat?" I roll my eyes. "We already know that without the pool."  
  
He stops pacing, still looking at me. I know I shouldn't have said that, but man, I love it when he gets passionately pissy at me. His arms cross as he glowers menacingly– as much as a guy of his short stature and feminine-like looks could. It's cute.  
  
"It'll show all of them at the public pools that we don't need their damn pools," he sneers. His lips smack and his tongue clicks as he steps forward to me. "Show that stupid store that we don't need their damn expensive fans. That we don't need their expensive air conditioning!" He's right into my face, his nose scrunched up in anger, eyes narrowed in determination. "We're gonna make it and get it ourselves!"  
  
I chuckle and grab him by his shoulders, pulling him to the mattress, to me. Our lips meet, mine pliant and open, his pouted and closed. I lick them once, twice, kiss the upper lip, the bottom lip, coax him to play. He gives in the second I rub that spot he loves right behind his left ear, gasping slightly, tinged with surprise.  
  
His arms wind around my waist as I cup his neck, thumbs rubbing his jawline. He sighs into my mouth, into the kiss. I know it's stupid to kiss in this heat, having our hot chests pressing together. But goddamn he feels great. He rolls his tongue alongside my own, breathing hard and moaning soft.  
  
This really is the best way to calm him down from his tirades I've found. All he needs is to rant, bitch, moan, snarl and pout, then I come right in with a kiss, a hug, and eventually, a good fucking. I swear, he's like a fucking whining dog wanting attention and love. A fucking whining, annoying terrier pawing at my leg and wagging his tail wanting to play. A fucking whining, annoying terrier... who can kiss like a motherfuck, hello. Fuck he's good.  
  
We part panting heavily, chest to chest, arms wound tight around both of us. He's finally smiling, more red-faced, sweatier than before. Yeah, that was not the smartest thing to do. I can't stand this heat as much as him. No A/C, no public pool, no fan. We've got no way to unwind. We're screwed pretty much.  
  
But, I do have one idea... I wonder if he'll dig it. It'll be... different to say the least, heh. And hopefully fun? If anything, he'll stop bitching, and I'll finally cool down.  
  
I rub our noses, give his red lips another kiss that's gentler from before. I slide one hand up and down his back, pulling my neck back to look at him clearer.  
  
"Wanna take a dip in the pool?" I tease, raising my eyebrows.  
  
His own eyebrows knit together in confusion. Green eyes waver in speculation and caution. "What fuckin' pool?" he whispers.  
  
I grin from ear-to-ear. A confused Lars is the best Lars. Well, one of the best. I love surprising him. I don't get to do it enough. He's usually two steps ahead of me, so I get so much joy out of pulling the wool over his eyes.  
  
I rise from the mattress, bringing him with me. Our hands clasp as I pull him behind me, directing him to the bathroom. I can feel his hesitation, his confusion.  
  
When I turn around, he's staring at the bathroom door, his lips trying to form words. They stop moving, his jaw closing shut. He snaps his attention right back at me, green eyes narrowed to slits. I already know what he's thinking.  
  
'What the fucking hell is Hetfield up to now, the crazy motherfucker? The fuck is he doing, taking me to the damn bathroom? What did he fucking mean by a damn 'pool'? Is he drunk, high? Fucking both? What the fuck is going on here?'  
  
I open the bathroom door and step in, pulling him behind me. He'll figure out soon enough._  
  
"Mr. Hetfield?"  
  
I shake my head, the twenty-year old memory leaving me temporarily. I turn in the direction of the voice and find one of the A/C workers standing there in the kitchen doorway, looking at me with such a guilty, flushed look. Great, this doesn't bode well.  
  
"Yeah, what's up?" I ask. I'm already expecting bad news.  
  
"Well," he drawls, shuffling his feet. Oh boy, here we go. "Things were fine initially, but... uh, we ended up screwing up a few circuits here and there, and um..." He coughs and scratches the side of his arm. "We're afraid you're going to have to get a new air conditioner."  
  
I sigh and roll my eyes. Fucking yay, just what I needed to tell an already pissy Lars upstairs. This is going to be fun.  
  
I'm not taking it out on the guy though. He already told me he and his buddies were fans– big ones apparently. I know they're pissed at themselves for their blunder. I mean shit the guy barely looks over twenty. I'm not gonna bitch at a kid. Thank goodness Lars isn't here. At this point, he doesn't have that rationality anymore. Lars never did like the heat. Scandinavian prick.  
  
I shake my head and dismiss this with a wave of my hand. "Not like we can't afford a new one," I say nonchalantly with a small smile. "Thanks anyway."  
  
"I'm sorry, I'm really really sorry," the guy starts blubbering. Ah man, poor thing, he's shaking, stuttering too. "We thought it was going to be an easy job, but then we found out the model was an old, old model, so we tried to work with the manuals but they didn't help out, so we tried contacting our supervisors but they weren't available, so we decided we could do it, but we couldn't, and–"  
  
I chuckle softly as I walk up to him and place a hand on him. "No worries, really," I reassure, squeezing his shoulder. "If you guys want to reinstall a new one, be my guest. I'm gonna head up stairs and relax."  
  
I leave the guy beaming, all wide-eyed and wide-grinned, as I head for the freezer. Maybe our luck's changing because the tea isn't frozen in the pitcher. I've done that so many times it's pathetic. Now all I need to hear is that at least the pool is fixed. That'll balance out the now dysfunctional air conditioner we have.  
  
I pour our teas in matching blue glasses, mine without lemon and his with a lot of it. I add a good amount of sweetener to mine, and none to Lars's. Similar glasses, different contents. They match us well.  
  
As I head up the stairs, the sultry sound of jazz music floods my ears. It grows exponentially in volume the closer I reach to the top. I'm grinning and snickering by the time I'm entering the bedroom, listening to Lars in the 'pool' singing along to Ella Fitzgerald. One of these days, I'm going to record on my phone Lars singing to Blue Moon and post it to YouTube under a weird username like MegatallicaRules666 or something. But not today. I still value my life... and my dick, come to think of it.  
  
The room's as stuffy as the rest of the house, but I can live with it. There's a 'pool' to dip into with my name on it. I rest the tray on the bed and head back to the door to close and lock it. I don't want anyone to disturb us for awhile. And maybe I feel a bit merciful. No one else can live with that horrid off-key voice but me. I think I'm the only one alive who considers it endearing rather than ungodly horrific cruel punishment to the nth degree. Well, on a good day, I think it's endearing. And since I'm finally stripping off this damn outfit and heading into the 'pool' with an iced tea and a naked Lars, it's a damn good day.  
  
Finally gloriously, happily naked, I grab the try again and head for the bathroom door. I'm so glad the bathroom and bedroom are conjoined. I knock on the door three times before opening it and stepping inside.  
  
Lars hasn't noticed me. He's singing the next Ella Fitzgerald song on the stereo system, standing naked underneath the cold spray of water from the shower. It Don't Mean A Thing will never sound the same to me again. Lars plus scat singing equals hilarity.  
  
I muffle my laughter by sucking on my lips and biting down. Fucking adorable cheeky tone-deaf shithead. I pick up our glasses of ice tea and walk to our 'pool,' the deep jacuzzi soaking tub with two shower handles coming out of the wall. The water's only half-calf high, but it's good enough. The second I carefully step inside, not wanting to disturb Lars's private time, my feet and legs are happy. Fuck yeah, cool water. Fuck that we've got, _this_ is the real pool.  
  
I'm so glad I showed him the benefits of a homemade 'pool' back then in LA. He may be too proud to get a fan, but he knows this kind of 'pool is special. That's what I told him when I pulled him to the shower and turned the water on to cold.  
  
_"You're pool awaits," I tease as I tug him in alongside me. My eyebrows wiggle as I shut the shower door. "A special pool."  
  
Lars rolls his eyes at me, feigning annoyance. His pleased grin destroys his veil of frustration. "Smartass."  
  
All traces of confusion are wiped away from his face as we stand under the spray together. We shiver initially at the change of temperature but quickly adjust. This is ten million times better than the heat we have been enduring the whole damn day.  
  
I close my eyes and tilt my head to the spray, wetting my face and hair. God that feels good. I make sure to get myself nice and drenched. I know Lars is going to get impatient waiting for his turn. Soon enough, I'm proved right as Lars impatiently starts poking my stomach with his finger. I step aside and let him have his turn, watch as he tilts his head forward and wets all of his hair, fingers scratching through his scalp, down to his neck, over his shoulders.  
  
Fuck he looks good like this. The water is pouring down his back, over his ass, through his crack. It trickles down between his soft thighs and pours down his ankles and feet. He's rubbing and palming his chest, spreading the water there. His head tilts back and he opens mouth, sighing happily. Water falls through his parted lips which he accepts and spits out easily to the side. His wet hair mattes to his shoulders and neck. He tilts his head forward and runs his hands up and down his face, spreading the water there.  
  
Well I'm not about to pass an opening like this. I'd be a fool to do so. Better get him while he's distracted.  
  
I stretch my arm out over him and tilt the shower head to the side so the water hits the wall. That way we can feel the droplets fall and spray, still keeping us cool. Just like I expected, he stiffens and tries to turn around. I know he's peeved that I took away his watery relief. Won't be peeved for long, heh.  
  
He's singing another tune as I press up behind him and wrap my arms around him. One hand drifts up to his chest to play with a nipple while the other grabs his cock and starts stroking. He gasps loudly and I grin cheekily. Gotcha.  
  
Lars leans against my chest pliantly, little gasps and moans coming out thoughtlessly from between his wet lips. His stomach and chest rise and fall frantically as I work him up to a nice and fast orgasm. His head shifts to the side, pants hot breath onto my cool neck. He feels so good all wet and cool like this. I lean down and suck on the side of his neck, teeth sinking through his wet hair to find his skin and tug playfully. The reaction has him bucking into my fist, his legs spread a little wider so I have a bit more room to work. It's not like we can do much in this cramped space, but we're managing.  
  
His hands fly up to my hair, shoving my face deeper into his neck so I can leave more hickeys there, more marks. His fingers tighten and tug at my hair as his hips thrust up and down. He's murmuring nonsense, licking his lips, panting and sighing and moaning. Fuck yes. Fuck he's hot. He's so good. I work my hand faster, suck at his neck stronger, slip my hard cock between his ass cheeks and rub up and down between his crack.  
  
He juts his hips into my hand, cock twitching as he comes onto the shower wall, into my fist, a little onto his stomach. His whole body falls apart against me as he whines a tad in between a succession of loud moans. The hand on his torso slides up to his shoulder to keep his jittery steady.  
  
I'm so glad we're alone whenever we do this. Lars so doesn't know how to shut up when he orgasms. He needs a gag, always. But fuck, I love that guttural voice of his huskily whispering my name like he does now, murmuring it over and over as calms down in my arms, laying against me full-bodied. I'm the only way he's standing now and I kind of like that thought.  
  
His fingers slowly untangle their grip in my hair until his hands flop uselessly to his sides. I slide my hand up from his softening cock so I can wrap my arm around his stomach. I still suck at his neck, kiss and nip and mark with every patch of skin I can find. He shivers in my arms, still mindlessly murmuring my name.  
  
Once I feel his body calm down, breathing even and shivers gone, I let go of his neck. I nuzzle his marked skin, plant kisses here and there, breathe him in. He feels so amazing. I reach out with an arm to turn the shower head back towards us. I'm starting to get hot again obviously. Need to cool down in more ways than one.  
  
I pull us towards the opposite side of the wall so I'm leaning fully against the wet tiles, still holding Lars. The water spray isn't far from us, so we're still cool. Man that was great. I kiss his neck again, drift my lips up so I can kiss the back of his ear. Heh, got him good.  
  
A few wonderful, blissful moments later, Lars is wriggling in my hold. I knew he couldn't stand still for long. I kiss the back of his head and let him go. I fully expect to see him wobbling a bit, then turning around to bitch me out about having sex while it's still so damn hot.  
  
He does wobble a little, and he does turn around. He does open his mouth, and I do wait for the reprimanding, the chastising, the bitching. I expect it so much that I'm left gasping for breath and scrambling for balance when he sinks to his knees in front of me and takes my still hard cock right into my mouth and sucks the fucking life out of me.  
  
Fuuuuuuuuck. This is going to be fast, shit, and I know it. Fuck this is going to be embarrassing. Try Hetfield, try to last, you can... no, I can't. Lars is just too fucking good at this shit. And he fucking blindsided me. Fuuuuck. Uuuuugh.  
  
I grab onto his hair and thrust into his mouth. His tongue swipes all around my cock, his cheeks hollowing. His head starts to bob and that's pretty much it, I'm done. I'm gone. I come into his mouth, and when he pulls away, I come a little on his face.  
  
Shit, my legs are like rubber and my lungs are on fire. Now I'm the shaking one. I slide down the tile wall until I'm laying boneless on the floor. Strength comes into my legs from the cold water pounding from the shower. At least I'm staying somewhat cool.  
  
Lars curls up besides me with a shit-eating grin. The come on his face is gone, wiped away by the water all around us. He plants a kiss onto the side of my chin. Without saying a word, I know what he's saying. Got you back too, dickhead.  
  
I don't care if we're fucking cramped as hell in this tub. I shift around until Lars and I are shoulder-to-shoulder, hip-to-hip, leg-to-leg. I raise my left hand to his cheek and capture his lips in a sweet kiss that he responds so effortlessly to. The position doesn't allow for much room, but again, we'll manage._  
  
That day was so much fun. Lars ended up agreeing with me that taking dips in 'our pool' was much better than going to a damn public pool. We did it a few more times, even tried having full blown sex in there, but that was like a fucking comedy routine of twisted limbs and colorful curses and many bruises. Didn't really do it again after that.  
  
But he still enjoyed 'our pool' and all the 'dips' we made into it. They kinda died once we got working fans, then the amazing, merciful wonders of air conditioning. On the road was when we indulged in 'pool time.' I was happy that he still remembered all those times before. When we got this house, he made sure we had the best state-of-the-art jacuzzi bath. Of course, he still installed that olympic-sized pool. Heh, dickhead.  
  
Oh nice, hello, the show is getting better now. He's started moving to the swinging beat of the song, hips and ass shaking enticingly in rhythm to his shoulder rolls. I step into the bath and watch the show, drinking my tea idly. Mmm, nice. He's not singing anymore, it's the part of the song that is all instrumentation. Now this is the life. Iced tea, a wet and naked Lars, and good music. I've got it made.  
  
I'm grinning around the rim of my glass as he turns around under the cool spray, really getting into the rhythm of that awesome swinging beat. He bites his bottom lip, making that face he does whenever he's really into the groove of something. It makes me grin as well as want him fiercely.  
  
I'm not ready to end the show just yet, so I sit down on the edge of the tub, put his cup besides me, and keep drinking, keep watching. He's really moving with the music now, head swaying, hips twitching. His hands roam over his defined biceps, down his torso, spreading the water all over. Water trickles down the sides of his face, over his closed eyes, drips from his chin, his nipple ring. I wonder if he's gonna tease himself. Now _that_ would be fun to watch!  
  
Okay, my luck definitely has to be turning. It has to be because hello hello I am hitting the jackpot here. He's drifted his fingertips over the bones of his hips and now he's cupping his balls, jerking on his hardening cock. I lick my lips at the sight of him, all wet and naughty underneath the cool spray.  
  
Green eyes open nice and wide, staring right at me. I expect confusion and shock, just like that day back then. Maybe even a tad bit of embarrassment – blushing Lars is one of my favorite things, along with confused Lars. But Lars just grins knowingly and continues to stroke his cock, playing with himself.  
  
"Having fun?" he teases me as he does himself. His eyebrows shoot up as he grins wider. "Like what you see?"  
  
I chuckle and nod approvingly at him. I should've known that he was expecting me, should've known he was fooling me. That's Lars for ya, always two steps ahead of the game. Wouldn't have him any other way.  
  
I finish off my ice tea, place it on the tub edge and grab his. He's fully hard as I stand before him and offer his cup. Behind sooty eyelashes green eyes stare right at me. His lips curve into a smile as he drinks his tea nice and slow. Fucking cocktease. I want him.  
  
Another Ella song comes on, another one I recognize. 'Summertime.' Louis Armstrong accompanies this one, a nice slow tune that oozes cool. How appropriate.  
  
I let Lars drink as I wind around his body, the sides of our skin grazing lightly. With locked gazes I reach behind him and turn off the shower. The music is louder in the bathroom without the spray on. I tease him in return as I stand up and slide my palm over his ass, fingers teasing his crack. He shudders but remains calm and composed. Heh, he's good.  
  
Lars finishes his cup as I stand besides him. Our eyes still hold gazes as I take it from him and place it onto the tub's edge. When I turn around, I plant my hands on his hips and he slides his hands up my chest, still teasing me with those pouting lips and narrowed eyes.  
  
"You bought my ice cream, right?"  
  
I snicker and kiss him softly. "Yeah, I did. Cookie Dough."  
  
"Good." He leans forward and nips at my bottom lip. I jerk and shudder, he laughs and repeats the motion. "Let's take a dip then, hmm?"  
  
Hell no I'm not going to turn that offer down. Not with the way he's looking at me I ain't! "You got it," I murmur and kiss his willing, eager lips.  
  
I wrap my arms around him and pull him down into the tub. It's deep and big, filled with nice cold water, almost like a real pool. We're laughing together as we share lazy kisses, our hands roaming over our wet bodies. I taste lemon and tea as I kiss him. He's warm mouth and cool skin, an intoxicating combo. The water heightens my senses as well as his as we indulge in each other to the sounds of Louis and Ella.  
  
Now, I should know better. I shouldn't tease him this way when I've got him all needy in my arms. But the want to push his buttons is too great. One little tease won't hurt anyone, right?  
  
Deep in the water of our jacuzzi, we part lips again, panting harder, teasing each others skin. Then, I whisper into his ear an innocent-sounding question.  
  
"Who is this again?" I ask. "Ella who?"  
  
He tenses up in my arms from head to toe. I've got such a shit-eating grin as I lean back, prepared fully for his rant and my subsequent triumph for getting his goat. Of course I know Ella's work, I've listened to her so many times because of Lars. I just love to ruffle his feathers.  
  
His lips fall over my ear quickly. "Why, Ella Hetfield, your unknown black sister, of course."  
  
I tense up this time. Uh. What the fuck did he just say? What did he just...  
  
I push Lars back so I can look at him. The second I see his shit-eating grin, the same one I thought I was going to have, I break down laughing. Fucking dickhead got me again. Fucking cockteasing tone-deaf annoying little fucker. Our lips meet in a giggling kiss as Ella singing her heart out in the background.  
  
It's just like I thought. The more I grow older, the more the present reminds me of the past. We're not poor anymore, we're definitely not unknown any longer, and we actually have a nice big bathtub to have a lot of 'pool sex' in. But we're still teens at heart, deep down inside. Teenagers who tease and laugh and take 'dips in the pool' just like we did back then.


End file.
